FiveKnuckles.com: How long were you locked up and did you have a specific training regimen in jail that helped prepare you for when you got out?

Lyle Beerbohm: I was addicted to drugs for a long time so I was in and out of county jail quite a few times. Finally, I was sent to Walla Walla State Penitentiary where I was locked up for a year and a day. They didn't have a bag that I could punch on so I did the basics. I ran, did my squats, my push-ups, and pull-ups. I didn't know much about MMA at all so I wasn't thinking that way, it was just running and doing sprints and stuff like that. They let you play basketball... handball was really popular. There was nothing in there that could help me in MMA because in my opinion, to become a better fighter you need to fight. If you're going to train for another sport like basketball for instance, you can lift weights and do other stuff on the side, but when it comes down to it you're going to have to shoot the ball. The way you train for fighting is by fighting. Unless you want to go to the hole (solitary confinement), you can't fight in prison but you also can't back down. You have to hold your own. I learned very quickly that you don't get into other people's business and you don't break up another fight, especially when race is involved.

When I first got into prison, I didn't know any better. One time in particular, there was this big black guy, about 6'4 270 lbs. and he was beating up this little white guy in the bathroom while I was in there taking a leak. He was beating him up bad, stomping him... the guy was done. I tapped the bigger guy on the shoulder and said: "I think he's had enough." In a split second, the guy turned around and came after me. I didn't understand what I did wrong, I was thinking to myself: "What the hell did I just get myself into?" I was trying to do the right thing and break the fight up because the other guy was clearly done. When he came at me, I never had fear in my life like that before. I knew I had to fight so my high school wrestling kicked in. He swung at me and luckily he missed. I hit a double leg and forced him into the wall as hard as I could; it didn't do much to him. He was in a position where he was landing hard shots to my kidneys. Finally, I felt that he was getting tired and I got him to the ground. From there I knew that I couldn't let him up and I just beat the living snot out of him. Luckily there...